Chapter Text
The dimly lit war room of the Empire was stifling with tension, the air thick with the weight of something unspoken.
Strategists, officers, and bureaucrats shuffled nervously as they awaited the report of Major Tanya von Degurechaff’s return. The latest intelligence had not been good—none had survived from her battalion, and what had been recovered was incomplete at best, fragmented at worst.
General von Lichtenburg sat at the head of the table, eyes narrowing as he reviewed the final communication from Tanya’s unit. A single sentence lingered in his mind, cold and final: "Mission failed. Battalion lost."
The room’s silence was broken only by the occasional shuffle of papers. The unease was palpable, and it was clear that the fate of Tanya von Degurechaff, once a golden child of the Empire, now hung in the balance.
"Where is she?" asked Colonel Meyer, his voice clipped, betraying his frustration. "Why hasn’t she made an appearance yet?"
"She’s on her way," said the aide at the communications panel, his voice trembling slightly. "But she insisted on facing the consequences herself. She’s… she’s alone, sir. No battalion. No survivors. Just her."
There was a collective sigh in the room as if all of them had been holding their breath.
"Alone?" General von Lichtenburg repeated, his gaze darkening. "Then we’ll hear what she says, but I doubt it will be enough to redeem her."
The heavy doors to the war room creaked open, and Tanya von Degurechaff strode into the room. Her uniform was tattered and bloodstained, and the small figure of the Major appeared—if only slightly—disheveled. Her eyes, as sharp and calculating as ever, burned with fury, but there was something else in them now: a hollow exhaustion that only deepened the lines on her face.
As she approached the table, the officers stood in tense silence. Tanya’s reputation preceded her—fierce, unrelenting, and ruthlessly efficient. But now, she stood there, her body battered and broken, a shadow of the woman who had once commanded an ironclad battalion.
"I’m here," Tanya said, her voice cold and flat. "Now, let’s get this over with."
General von Lichtenburg’s gaze flicked from Tanya to the reports scattered across the table, his fingers drumming slowly on the polished wood.
"Major von Degurechaff," he began, his voice measured. You’ve returned, but it seems you’ve lost your battalion in the process. Care to explain?"
Tanya’s eyes blazed with an intensity that seemed at odds with her appearance. Her face remained stoic, but her lips twitched as though biting back a sharp retort. "I failed. Yes. My battalion is gone. But it wasn’t for lack of trying. We encountered something that defied logic.
We were slaughtered by forces beyond our comprehension. It wasn’t magic, General. It was something else—something older, more powerful than anything the Empire has faced."
She took a step forward, her voice growing colder, more insistent. "The Federation isn’t the threat. That thing was. And if you don’t understand that, we’re all doomed."
A murmur of disbelief rippled through the room. The officers exchanged uncertain glances, their expressions a mixture of frustration, confusion, and disbelief. Admiral Reimer’s eyes narrowed, his voice like ice as he spoke.
"Enough of this superstition, Major. Your men died because you miscalculated. It’s as simple as that. We don’t have time for fantasies. The Empire expects results, not excuses."
Tanya’s gaze snapped to him, her fury contained but undeniable. "Respectfully, I don’t make excuses, Admiral. My battalion was massacred because we encountered something real, something that could reduce our forces to ash in moments. Do you think I would send them into battle without understanding the risks? I did everything possible, but this… this wasn’t a normal enemy."
"I don’t care what it was," Colonel Meyer snapped. "You’re telling us you were outmatched by something we don’t even know exists? And you expect us to believe this… thing is the reason you lost everything?"
Tanya’s expression twisted into a bitter smile, her eyes burning with a mixture of pride and defiance.
"Believe whatever you want. I know the truth of it. I didn’t fail because I wasn’t good enough—I failed because what we faced wasn’t something that can be defeated with strategy or magic alone. There are divine forces at work... forces that not even our greatest minds could comprehend."
The tension in the room reached a breaking point.
General von Lichtenburg slammed his fist onto the table, his face red with barely restrained fury.
"So, that’s it, Major? You’re telling us we’re facing something beyond us? That we should just give up because you couldn’t handle it? We’ve invested too much in you for this—this failure!"
Tanya stood tall, her eyes unwavering as she met his gaze. "You can fire me. You can strip me of rank. But the fact remains—this threat is real, and it’s out there, waiting. If we don’t take it seriously, we will all pay the price."
"Enough!" General von Lichtenburg barked, his face now an unreadable mask.
"We all know that you have an... unconventional approach to warfare, Major. But you’ve crossed a line. You’ve lost a battalion—our best battalion—without providing any concrete evidence of this ‘threat.’ We’ve seen no proof of what you’re claiming. Just… excuses. And worse, your actions have jeopardized the Empire’s standing with the other branches. The Navy is already questioning your competence."
There was a long, painful silence, punctuated only by Tanya’s heavy breathing. Her posture, stiff and rigid, betrayed none of the fatigue she surely felt. But there was a subtle shift in her expression—a flicker of understanding, if only for a moment. The Empire had always been about control, about maintaining its image of strength and unity.
And she had just shattered that image, no matter how much truth lay in her words.
"We’re not discussing my career," Tanya said, her voice suddenly colder than ice. "You want results? Fine. Take the Empire’s precious army and send it to the northern mountains. Send all your men for I care. That's where I saw the evil... and the mages... god knows what else supposedly lies in wait. I warn you—this isn’t over. It’s just begun."
The room’s tension turned to disbelief as Tanya’s final words lingered in the air, heavy with meaning.
Colonel Meyer, visibly frustrated, stood up. "You’ve got nerve, Major. You return from the brink of disaster, dragging what’s left of your reputation through the mud—and you come here to lecture us? You’ve lost the Empire a battalion. And now you want us to trust you with more lives?"
"I didn’t ask you to trust me," Tanya replied coolly, her gaze piercing. "I’m telling you the truth. You can either take action or watch everything burn."
General von Lichtenberg studied her for a long, tense moment. His fingers twitched slightly, an old habit when contemplating hard decisions. Then, without a word, he nodded curtly to an aide. "Prepare a formal report. Major von Degurechaff will remain in command for now. We’ll deal with the consequences later. But this… this will not be forgotten."
Tanya’s expression remained impassive, though her chest tightened with a mix of anger and frustration. The political ramifications were clear. She had once been a weapon of the Empire—a symbol of unshakable will. But now, she was a liability, a subject of internal politics, of endless debate over what to do with a lost commander.
She had survived the battle—but this time, survival alone might not be enough.
.....
The walls of Tanya’s office felt like they were closing in on her. The faint hum of the electric lights buzzed incessantly, like the whispers in her mind that refused to stop. The small, dimly lit room was a far cry from the cold, calculating military corridors she used to stride through with unshakable confidence. Now, it was just a prison. A suffocating space where her thoughts turned ever darker.
God was still there.
Tanya could feel it. Every inch of her skin burned with the awareness of his presence. Being X—God, or whatever it was that called itself that—was always watching, always manipulating her. She had long since cast aside any pretenses of ignoring the absurdity of her situation. The war. Her actions. Her victories. Her losses.
None of it mattered. None of it was ever truly in her control.
Sitting at her desk, Tanya clenched her fists, her knuckles white from the pressure. Her body was still sore from the aftereffects of the battle—the dark, twisted magic she had summoned to survive—but it wasn’t the physical pain that gnawed at her. It was the gnawing, relentless whispering in her mind, the feeling that she was not her own person anymore.
That every victory, every loss, every decision she had ever made had been pushed—engineered—by something beyond her comprehension.
Her eyes darted around the room, as if the shadows themselves might harbor his mocking gaze.
You are nothing, his voice hissed, echoing in her mind. You are nothing but a tool in a game that you cannot even begin to comprehend.
She slammed her fist down on the table, knocking over a glass of water that spilled across the surface. She hadn’t been sleeping.
She couldn’t sleep.
Every time she closed her eyes, he was there.
Watching.
The war had taken a new, insidious turn ever since that disaster on the Eastern Front. Her battalion’s destruction had been followed by an inexplicable lull in the fighting, an eerie calm that had settled over the Empire’s fronts.
Her superiors had made their decisions, brushing aside her warnings about the true threat and sending more men to the mountains. But Tanya knew—she knew—that it wasn’t just an enemy army out there. It was something much darker, something more insidious than the Federation. And it was all connected.
How much longer can you keep running from me, Tanya von Degurechaff? What ever happened to you... you used to be the Devil of the Rhine... now you're just a paranoid freak.
Her breath hitched as the words echoed louder in her head. They weren’t just thoughts anymore. They were a presence. The words felt like they were carved directly into her soul.
No, no, no! Tanya thought, clenching her fists so tightly that her nails dug into her palms. I won’t succumb to this.
Her grip on reality was slipping, piece by piece, and she could feel it—the dark presence pulling at her, trying to make her its instrument.
They’re all so foolish, the voice continued as if it could hear her every thought. You’re fighting a war that was never yours to win. A war that was set in motion long before your birth. And now, you think you can change it? You think you can fight fate itself?
Tanya slammed her hands down on the desk, trying to drown out the voice. But it only grew louder. The more she fought, the more it pushed back. The shadows deepened, and she was drowning in them.
You are nothing but a pawn.
A soft knock on the door shattered the madness in her mind, forcing her to snap back to reality. She gritted her teeth, trying to force the cold, calculating mask back onto her face. She knew who it was.
“Major von Degurechaff,” came the voice from the other side of the door. It was Lieutenant Serebryakov. “You have a briefing in ten minutes. It’s… it’s about the next deployment.”
Tanya exhaled sharply, trying to steady her breath. Another deployment?
She had barely survived the last one. And now they were sending her out again.
It felt like a cruel joke, the same war she couldn’t escape, the same forces controlling her fate, no matter how much she fought against it.
“Fine,” she said, her voice tight, brittle with the weight of exhaustion. “Tell them I’ll be there. Don’t waste my time with unnecessary chatter.”
As Viktoriya’s footsteps faded down the hall, Tanya sank back into her chair, rubbing her temples to stave off the creeping panic.
Her mind was a battleground—fragments of the war, fragments of the voices, of Being X’s ever-present manipulation, swirling around her. '
The feeling of being watched was unbearable. Every choice, every step she took seemed to be guided by an invisible hand, as if the very fabric of her existence had been constructed to serve some greater, twisted purpose.
Fate.
The word echoed in her mind again, pulling at the edges of her sanity. She could hear Being X’s mocking tone behind it, and she wanted to scream.
She wanted to burn it all away.
This is mine to control.
My will.
My life.
But no matter how hard she fought, the grip of fate refused to loosen.
.....
Later that day, Tanya stood in front of a large map, her uniform crisp and immaculately prepared, as though she were the same unyielding officer who had struck fear into the hearts of her enemies.
But inside, there was nothing but confusion and bitterness. She scanned the map, plotting her next moves for her new deployment. The Empire had ordered a strategic advance, and she was to lead the charge.
But it all felt… wrong.
There was a sense of inevitability to it.
The officers around her spoke, their voices a blur as her mind remained fixed on the dark thoughts that plagued her.
Every move.
Every battle.
She couldn’t escape the thought that Being X was pulling the strings behind it all. No matter what they said, no matter what she did, it all seemed to lead back to the same place.
You will march to your doom, the voice whispered, wrapping itself around her every thought. You cannot escape me, Tanya. No matter how hard you fight. I saved you... and you need me.
Tanya’s hand clenched into a fist again, her nails biting into her flesh as she fought to maintain composure. But beneath her icy exterior, her heart raced, a deep, primal fear swelling in her chest.
What if Being X was right?
What if she was merely a puppet, her every decision part of a plan she couldn’t hope to understand?
Her thoughts spiraled further, the weight of her paranoia pressing down on her, threatening to break her. But Tanya refused. She couldn’t let go. Not now. Not after everything.
I am not a pawn. She repeated the thought like a mantra, clinging to the belief that she could still control her fate.
Being X chuckled.
"We'll see."